A Christmas Story
by djenie
Summary: Christmas morning in the O'Neill household. Could be set before the series, or several Christmases after. You choose. Jack is there, but the other characters are unnamed.


I'm not sure why I get the idea for Christmas/Holiday stories after the fact, but here it is, anyway. This one could be set prior to the TV series, or it could take place several Christmases after the series. You choose. It's Jack, but the other characters are unnamed.

Happy 2020 to everyone!

**~x~**

A Christmas Story

The bedroom was bathed in shadow, the only light coming in through the slightly open door from the hallway. Through an unshaded window, the stars of early morning twinkled brightly in the predawn dark. One in particular was shining with especially brilliant beauty. An observer would almost imagine hearing the sound of faraway sleigh bells!

It was a boy's bedroom, as indicated by the baseball and glove sitting on the desk, several airplane models suspended from the ceiling, and the small body in miniature Air Force pajamas sprawled upon the bed. Blond hair fell across the boy's forehead in messy softness, and long lashes shadowed his cheeks. He squirmed a little, and made a soft sound in his throat as he began to come gradually awake.

Blue eyes opened slowly and stared blankly at nothing for a few moments. Then he drew in a deep breath, and his eyes popped wide at the sudden memory of just what day would soon be dawning.

"Yes!" he whispered excitedly, sitting up and flinging away the blankets.

In his room down the hall, Jack opened his eyes, suddenly alert. The house was silent, but something had awakened him. He listened closely, and after a moment he heard it—the soft sound of small, bare feet in the hallway. He chuckled.

Beside him, his wife stirred and rolled onto her back. She yawned, then asked, "Is he up?"

"Yup."

"What time is it?"

He looked at the clock on his night table. "Six forty-eight. That's better than last year. I think it was oh-four-hundred," he said ruefully.

She laughed. "Yes. I remember."

Just then they heard the creak of that loose board in the hall, near the front door.

"He's almost there," Jack commented.

"I guess we should get up," she said.

"Yeah. We might miss something." He sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. A moment later, he felt his wife move and then smiled as her arms slid around him from behind. She kissed the back of his neck. "Now, now, none of that," he teased. "We don't wanna be late for the show."

"Oh, yeah." She scrambled around until she was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.

He looped an arm around her shoulders and leaned down to plant a warm kiss on her lips.

"Now who's making us late?" she asked when they separated.

"Well, a minute or two won't matter that much." But he stood and reached for the jeans and sweatshirt that lay across a chair, and then handed her the robe that was hanging on the closet door.

They slipped quickly into the garments, and then opened the door quietly and stepped into the hall. Heading toward the living room, they arrived in the doorway just in time to see their son pick up the remote from the coffee table and turn on the Christmas tree lights.

Dad and Mom stopped and watched as the boy stared at the sight before him. She slipped her hand into her husband's and felt his soft squeeze in return.

After a few moments of entranced staring, the six-year-old began to pace back and forth in front of the lighted tree, his gaze bouncing rapidly from one new treasure to another—gaily wrapped packages that had not been there when he reluctantly, with many glances over his shoulder, had been urged off to bed the night before.

"Look! Oh, look at that one! And that one! Yes, I see! It's new!" He seemed to be carrying on the conversation with himself, oblivious to the two adults standing in the doorway, smiling at him. "That one is so big!" the boy continued. "And the other one! Santa came! He really came! Are they for me, do you think?"

His father moved forward, and choosing a spot on the floor, sank down into a cross-legged position and grinned at the boy. "Why don't you read the tags and find out?" he suggested gently.

"Oh! Oh yes!" The boy knelt beside one of the large presents, not quite daring to actually touch, and leaned over so he could see the tag. "It says my name! Oh, it is for me! Unless maybe there's another little boy nearby with the same name and it got delivered to the wrong house! Oh… do you think Santa could make a mistake like that?"

Jack laughed out loud at this statement. "I really don't think he makes many mistakes, kiddo." He glanced over at his wife who was settling herself on the couch to watch the fun. "What do you think, Mom?"

"No. Santa doesn't make mistakes," she assured them.

A slightly worried frown creased their son's smooth forehead. "But are you sure? There could be a first time, you know."

"I'm sure," she said. "He can't afford to make mistakes—if he did, he'd never make it all the way around the world in one night, would he?"

"No," the boy agreed thoughtfully. "He'd have too many complaints every year and would have to spend too much time fixing them! In fact, the post office at the North Pole would be so busy with the complaints that there wouldn't be enough time to read the regular letters to Santa, and none of the toys would get made on time and Santa would probably have to fire all the elves that work for him and go out and hire new ones, and I don't know where he would find any because I don't think there are many elves left in the world any more, except the ones that work for him already…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" his Dad exclaimed, while his Mom convulsed with giggles. "Getting a little off track there, buddy. Let's focus on opening the package, okay."

"Okay," the boy agreed. "But I need to think about the elf problem later," he reminded himself. He began to study the gift more closely, looking along the edges and seams for a place of egress.

Several moments passed while he made his examination and his parents exchanged knowing glances—somewhat impatiently on his Dad's part. Finally, he seemed to make a decision, took the overlapped edge of paper between his fingers and pulled carefully. The paper tore easily, of course, revealing the box underneath and the picture of the contents.

"Oh," he exclaimed joyfully. "It's the roller blades! He brought me the roller blades I asked for! Look, Daddy—Santa brought me roller blades!" He pushed the box toward his father. "See, see… Mom, can you see? He really brought them! You said he might think I'm too little for roller blades but he doesn't think so because he brought them!"

"I guess you're right, honey," she said, grinning.

He turned his attention to removing the rest of the wrapping paper from the box and then began to examine it to find the quickest way to get inside. "Dad, can you help me?" he asked when his efforts ran up against too many obstacles. "The box is all taped up…"

"Here we go." Jack pulled out his pocket knife, and slit the obstructing tape. "But wouldn't you like to open some of the other presents? See what else you got?"

"No, no!" the youngster shook his head emphatically. "I have to try them on and make sure they fit. What if they don't fit, Daddy? What if they're too small? How do I exchange something that Santa brought me? Would you have to fly it back to the North Pole? Will the Air Force let you use a jet…?"

"I think they'll fit," his mother told him confidently. "And besides, stores will always exchange thing that Santa brings, you know."

"They will? Really? I didn't know. That's good, isn't it? Because there are bound to be a few things that aren't right, aren't there? Remember last year when my friend Matt got those ABC blocks! And he's way too old for ABC blocks! But really I guess that doesn't count because he said his aunt sent them, and she lives in Boston in Massa… Massa… too… sets, and he's never even met her. He said she must have forgotten that he was a big boy. He'd asked for Legos, but I guess his aunt thought all building blocks are alike…"

"Son," his father coaxed softly.

"Oh… oh right!" He tried to open the lid of the box and with Jack's help managed the task. Within moments the skates were out and he was trying to pull one onto his foot. "Ow! I hurt my toes!"

"Wait a minute, sweetie," his Mom cautioned. "Let's look in the boots and see if there's some packing in there."

Sure enough, the boots were stuffed with paper and cardboard, which took a bit of effort to remove.

Finally, the packing was all out and the boy sat on the floor to pull the skates onto his feet. To his dismay, he discovered that the boots were a little loose.

"You'll just have to wear heavier socks," Mom explained hurriedly, before he could get too upset. "And this way you'll be able to wear them longer."

"Oh, of course!" He immediately pulled off the skates, jumped to his feet and ran off in the direction of his room.

The adults looked at each other in surprise and Jack shrugged.

A few minutes later, the boy came rushing back to the living room, several pairs of socks clutched in his hands. "I don't know which ones will work the best," he explained as he sat on the floor and spread the socks on the coffee table. "Those are probably too thick," he decided, pushing away a pair of heavy woolies. "And those are too thin." A pair of light summer socks joined the others. The next ones he chose were navy blue, and fell somewhere in between the other two. "I'll try these first."

He hastily pulled on the socks and then reached for the boots, sliding the first on one quickly.

"Oh, now they fit perfectly!" he exclaimed. "Look! Santa knew just what size to get! He knew. I'm going to put on the other one just to make sure…"

Mom and Dad eyed each other, smiling. Nearly thirty minutes had been consumed with the adventure of the roller blades! And that was only the first present! It was going to be a long Christmas Morning.

Life with their son was an experience to be relished!

**~Fin~**

**Thanks for reading! Everyone take care and have a wonderful New Year!**


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